


The Act of Creation

by Sequesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, also saileen rights, as a treat, humans deserve to have a few powers, i dont have an explanation for this its just happening, supernatural is a good show hidden inside a bad show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sequesters/pseuds/Sequesters
Summary: Dean didn’t really like any ending where Cas stayed dead.And if he wasn’t kidding himself, there was an extra-special reason why this time. It felt...infuriatingly incomplete. A joke without a punchline. A prophecy half-fulfilled. A dropped call in the middle of a tense conversation.A confession...without reciprocation.I love you.Yes, this is another Supernatural fix-it fic, but seriously--after all they've been through, and how heleft things, why the hell wouldn't the Winchester's try and get Castiel back? So that's exactly what they do here, all the while finding out new things about each other and about the nature of the universe around them.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 147





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, my first ever spite fic! I'm having fun, and that's all that matters. Saileen rights!

As they drove back to the bunker, people began to reappear.

Not all at once, though. The first town they drove through had one or two people standing on a street corner, in the next town there were fifty people wandering the streets in a daze, and in the next town there were a hundred people starting to shake off the disorientation.

An hour later, there were other cars on the road with them.

By the time they crossed into Lebanon’s city limits, it was almost like nothing had ever happened—people driving, walking, chatting, laughing…Dean’s heart swelled with pride. Not bad, for Jack’s first Godly act. Not bad.

As they finally, _finally_ pulled up to the bunker, there was one single person standing out in front of it.

Sam jolted upright.

“Is that-” he said, not daring to finish the sentence until they drove closer, and saw the small stature, the jacket, the black hair-

“ _Eileen_ ,” Sam finished breathlessly, tears forming in his eyes, “Look, it’s-it’s _Eileen_ , Dean, look, she’s right there, she’s right _there!”_

Sam’s voice broke on the last word, and he wiped his eyes with a hand.

“Go get ‘er, Tiger,” Dean said, and Sam was out of the car before it had even stopped moving.

“Sam!!” shouted Eileen with both her voice and her hands as Sam skidded to a stop in front of her.

Dean watched curiously as neither of them moved to touch the other, for a moment or two. Eileen’s little stint as a noncorporeal spirit was clearly weighing in the empty space between them.

Once bitten, twice shy.

Sam finally reached out with a shaking hand, hesitantly alighting on Eileen’s shoulder, and sagged with relief.

Eileen nodded tearfully, and she stepped in, disappearing fully into Sam’s sobbing embrace.

Dean heaved a sigh. His heart swelled for them and their reunion, but it also felt like it was breaking under the oppressive _loneliness_ of the empty Impala.

Bittersweet, just like their victory over Chuck.

The lovebirds finally broke apart, Eileen speaking and signing something at a rapid pace, until Sam grabbed her face and they kissed hungrily, all hands in hair and Sam’s jacket and-

“Hokay, that’s enough,” Dean murmured, flinging the driver’s side door open with a creak.

“Are you two done with your little chick-flick moment?” he called, leaning over the top of the car.

Sam and Eileen broke apart with a wet noise. Gross.

“Is it safe to, y’know,” he gestured outward with one hand, “ _Approach?”_

Sam signed something that almost _definitely_ contained the word “asshole”, and Eileen rolled her eyes.

Dean smiled a toothy grin, and crunched his way over the gravel to give Eileen a welcome-back-from oblivion hug, too.

Just not one quite as…passionate as Sam.

“It’s nice to see you, Dean,” Eileen said, when she finally stepped back.

“Well, y’know,” Dean said, putting his hands in his pockets, “Welcome back.”


	2. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam have a bonding moment, do some research, and get an unexpected visit from a loved one.  
> Well. Two loved ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i already had the first one written and the 2nd one ready to go, so you're gettin it now!

Once inside, the three of them melted into three different chairs, heaving sighs of relief.

Dean, for one, relished the feeling of sitting _still_ . There was tension bleeding out of him that he didn’t even know he _carried._ All that worrying, all of that stress that Chuck had literally created him to shoulder...Jack must have laced the whole universe with some sort of anti-depressant, because he felt more relaxed than he had in years.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I...kind of feel like I have to shower,” Eileen said hesitantly, “I always do, after coming...back. From there.”

“My bathroom has the good stuff in it,” Sam offered, “Feel-feel free.”

Eileen wandered away with a signed _thank you_ , leaving Sam and Dean to sit in silence.

“Wow,” Dean finally said, looking over at Sam, “The crazy son of a bitch really did it, didn’t he?”

“Hey, that’s our son you’re talking about,” Sam said, “That’d make _us_ the bitches.”

“Hey hey hey. I’m the jerk. _You’re_ the bitch,” Dean reminded.

Sam chuckled.

“What’s Cas, then? The only _competent_ parent?” he joked.

Dean seized up. That was the first time he’d heard Cas’ name since they were done dealing with Chuck, and it hurt like a knife in the chest.

“Y-yeah, maybe,” croaked Dean, trying to muster up a playful response as his mood tanked.

He looked down at his own knees and swallowed, the glaring absence of the angel pushing in on him on all sides, unavoidable, unbearable-

“I wish he was here, man,” Dean said quietly, voice unexpectedly raw, “To see how...how it all turned out. He’d be so _proud_.”

The sympathetic look that Sam gave him hurt even _more._

-

Life in the bunker after that was just...not right.

There had been other times, of course, that Cas had been missing. Dead, even. But this time, with the whole Chuck thing over and done with...he had the feeling, deep in his bones, that this was a true Ending.

Dean didn’t really like any ending where Cas stayed dead.

And if he wasn’t kidding himself, there was an extra-special reason why this time. It felt...infuriatingly incomplete. A joke without a punchline. A prophecy half-fulfilled. A dropped call in the middle of a tense conversation.

A confession...without reciprocation.

 _I love you_.

Under literally any other circumstances, hearing Cas say those words would be a highlight of Dean’s life. It would have _thrilled_ him. All these years, he had assumed that angels _couldn’t_ love that way, and bam, here comes Castiel, flipping his whole world upside down once again and proving him wrong.

But Cas was _gone_ . He died, never knowing that Dean felt exactly the same way, and that made Dean want to _break something_.

Thoughts of Cas plagued Dean, like a splinter in his mind, at almost every waking moment. And even in his non-waking moments, Dean would still dream about seeing his face, hearing the soft “I love you”, watch him be swallowed by the Empty before he could say-

Before he could say-

Dean popped awake, panting, hand shooting for the lamp switch and pressing it with frantic fingers.

The lamp light bathed the bunker room in yellow, revealing...nothing out of the ordinary. Just an empty room.

Breaths slowing, Dean put his head in his hands.

“God, you dumb idiot bastard,” Dean murmured, rubbing his hands through his hair.

He wasn’t really sure which dumb idiot bastard he was even referring to anymore. Cas may have been a dumb idiot bastard for loving Dean enough to specifically die from it, but Dean was an even BIGGER dumb idiot bastard for never voicing what was burgeoning and growing inside of him for twelve years, kept so secret that even Cas thought it was an impossibility, the truth that was locked in his throat at the moment it mattered the most.

He thought about speaking it to this cold, empty room, but what fucking good would that do? Cas still wasn’t here. He still wouldn’t k _now._

Dean leaned back against the headboard. He had never been a ghost, but he could completely understand how a spirit could stay tied to unfinished business after dying. If he died, his ghostly ass would probably roam the earth, trying in vain to find Cas and tell him-

Tell him-

“Fuck,” he muttered, throwing the covers off and storming down to the library. He didn’t give a single damn if this was technically where his story ended, he still had his own goddamn free will. There _had_ to be some way into the Empty, and he was gonna _find_ it.

-

The finding...was not going well.

Dean paged through the untranslated Latin tomes, trying to piece together some sort of coherent picture of the realm of the Empty. How Sam had the patience to sift through all this researchy shit, he had no idea. All he could find, after hours of searching, was that the Empty COULD be summoned, but he could not, for the life of him, figure out _how._

_Rip._

He accidentally tore one of the pages as he turned it, and that was the last straw.

Blinded by a sudden burst of rage, he _hurled_ the fragile tome across the room, where it hit the ground clunkily, settling upside down in a heap--looking just like how Dean felt.

He sat back, rubbing his eyes. He clearly wasn’t the brains of this operation.

So he headed out of the library, straight to the kitchen. He didn’t even stop to check the damage to the thrown book. It didn’t matter. He was going to go do something that he was actually good at—cracking open a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, and pouring himself a shot.

-

“Dean.”

Dean tried to recoil from the sound, but his body wasn’t awake enough to follow his directions. It just twitched.

“Dean,” came the voice more sternly.

Aw fuck, it was Sammy.

Dean slowly, painstakingly, unstuck his face from the kitchen table, groaning all the while. The single working bulb in the kitchen was way too bright, and there was a full construction crew pounding jackhammers inside of his skull.

“Dean!” shouted Sam.

“Aghhh, not so loud, not so loud,” he groaned, finally raising his head.

“Dude. How much did you _drink_ last night?”

“Uhmm,” Dean stalled, the rusty gears in his brain NOT turning at max capacity, “I uh. Lost count.”

“Looks like you polished off what was left of the Jack Daniels,” Sam said, sighing and handing Dean a cup of coffee and some ibuprofen.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Dean muttered, downing the pills.

“Now talk to me, man,” Sam said, sitting down himself. “The library’s a mess, and the kitchen’s not much better. What the hell were you doing?”

“I, uh,” Dean said, swirling his coffee, “I was looking for how to...summon the Empty.”

Sam sighed. “Dean-”

“No, Sam, listen,” Dean interrupted, picking up manic speed, “Just _think_ about it, for two seconds. Cas is still in there, _intact._ He didn’t get killed by an angel blade, he still has a _vessel_ ...he got out before, and I think if we can just find a way _in_ , then we can get him back _home_.”

Sam looked affronted. “I’m-I’m not letting you run off half-cocked _summoning_ otherworldy, _malevolent_ entities-”

“Why not? That’s kinda like our M.O.,” Dean said, trying to crack a desperate smile.

““Yeah, but we know basically NOTHING about the Empty! If you _did_ get in, by some miracle, how exactly are you planning to get back _out?_ ”

“I-I dunno, but I can’t just sit on my hands here, Sam!” Dean yelled, “He’s still _alive_ in there!”

“We don’t KNOW that!” Sam shouted.

That stopped Dean cold, and he could do nothing but _stare_ at his brother. It hurt, it hurt _so bad_ to think it, but he...had a point.

Sam took a breath. 

“Look-I know you miss Cas, a-and I do too!” Sam said, touching his own chest for emphasis, “But...I can’t let you go into _unknown dangers_ just on the off-chance it’ll _work out_ somehow!”

Dean put his head in his hands.

“I thought you’d understand, Sam,” Dean said, his heart pounding, “When you lost Eileen, you worked so, so hard to find a way to get her back.”

“That’s-that’s-” Sam sputtered, “That was _totally_ different.”

“No,” Dean said, low and gravelly, “No it’s not.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but then froze.

“W-what are you saying?” he asked, tilting his head a little.

Dean stood up abruptly, and stomped his way right up to Sam.

“You wanna know how he cashed in that Empty deal?” he yelled, anger bleeding through his voice, “Huh? Do you wanna know how he managed to experience happiness? When Billie was coming to _kill_ us?”

Dean felt feral, looking Sam straight in the eye. “He told me, that he _loved me._ ”

Sam’s whole face changed.

“A-and that was it,” Dean said, choking up as the anger dissipated, “That was the moment of true h-happiness that the Empty was after. He told me, that it was happiness enough just to _say it_ , response be damned. And the moment he said-he said, y’know, _the words…_ ”

Dean swallowed hard as a tear bounced down his cheek, but there was no way he wasn’t going to finish the story now.

“The Empty came for him. He pushed me aside, and it...it took him,” he finished, sagging back down into a chair.

It felt good to get the truth out, to confide in his little brother, even though the pain of loss of that night still bled freshly in his heart.

He swiped at his eyes, but the tears still silently tracked down his face.

“Wow,” Sam said quietly, pulling his chair up right next to Dean, “Did he think it was, uhm...u-unrequited?”

Dean took a few deep breaths, willing himself not to cry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice no more than a whisper.

“But it... _wasn’t_ ,” Sam said slowly, “Was it.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, feeling Sam’s eyes bore into his skull.

“Dean.”

Dean pursed his lips together, and shook his head. “No.”

Sam blew a breath out.

“Boy,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“He died, baring his soul, thinking that I didn’t-that I _couldn’t_ -” Dean choked, turning away to compose himself.

Sam put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I’d give...I’d give just about anything,” Dean finally said, voice low to keep from breaking, “To have that kind of _chick-flick moment_ that you got.”

Sam pulled him into an embrace at that.

It was a bit awkward, since they were both sitting side-by-side in wooden kitchen chairs, but Dean still slumped, crying, against Sam all the same. His heart was boiling over with guilt, rage, sorrow, shame, and profound _sadness,_ and his body trembled with the intensity of it all.

“It’s alright,” Sam muttered, patting him on the back, “Hey. It’s alright.”

Dean sniffled as he stilled, finally loosening his grip on Sam’s jacket.

“Losing Cas hurt me, too,” Sam said, “He’s a part of our _family_ , and he’s been around longer than most. But I don’t...I don’t want to lose you _too,_ Dean. I dunno if I could take that.”

“If you’re serious about this,” Sam continued, “You gotta promise me, that you’ll let me do some _research_ first.”

Dean pulled away, smiling gratefully.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I can do that.”

“Hey,” Sam said gently, shaking Dean by the shoulder, “We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Dean heaved a shaky sigh, and stood up.

“God, my head _hurts_ ,” he groaned.

“Yeah, it’s a side effect of not repressing your emotions for once,” Sam said with a little chuckle, “And also probably the hangover.”

Dean grumbled, but couldn’t bring himself to be mad. Sam wasn’t really making fun of him, he was just sitting there...beaming at him.

“Hey,” Dean said, trying this best to toss him a cool head nod, “Thanks for being cool about...y’know. The _thing_.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “You kidding? I saw the writing on the wall YEARS ago.”

Dean’s face must have been doing something interesting, because Sam _smirked_.

“What, am I the only one who remembers-” Sam adjusted himself and furrowed his brows.

“Oh, yeah,” he grumbled, in a piss-poor Cas impression, “Dean and I _do_ share a more profound bond-”

“Alright, Sammy,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Or that one time, that you literally told him that he was giving you bedroom eyes, then _winked_ at him, right in front of me?” Sam continued, getting more and more gleeful, “Or how about that time you totally popped a BONER when he cleaned up after purgatory, ALSO right in front of me, might I add-”

“Wow, humiliation reeeally goes GREAT with a hangover,” Dean said, rubbing his temples, “I’m having a fantastic time.”

“Sorry Dean, it’s just payback for every time you made me witness you and Cas staring at each other for _minutes on end,_ ” Sam said, a grin still on his face, “You two owe me _financial compensation_.”

Dean didn’t have it in him to argue.

“Now you, go nurse your hangover,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together, “I got this.”

Dean wandered back to his room as if in a dream. Did he really just... _come out_ to his brother? And admit his feelings for Cas? He used to wake up sweating from nightmares of this exact scenario, hearing Sam spew homophobic bile in his dreams, but it was just so...boringly _fine_ , that he almost couldn’t believe it actually happened.

“What the hell was I even _worried_ about,” Dean grumbled, falling into bed with a _flump._

-

Dean wandered back into the library later in the afternoon, finding Sam squinting down at a text behind a pair of reading glasses.

“Since when do _you_ wear glasses?” Dean asked, in lieu of a hello.

“I’m thirty-seven, Dean,” Sam sighed, “I get a headache if I don’t use ‘em.”

“Thirty-seven, _Jesus_ ,” Dean said, “When did you get so _old,_ Samuel?”

“What? You’re forty-one!!” Sam protested.

“Yeah, well, I’m the big brother, I’m supposed to get old,” Dean said, settling down in the opposite chair, “Find anything?”

“Not much,” Sam said, sitting back in the chair, “Mostly stuff we already know. But I did find out that it can’t interfere with creation unless it is summoned in some way, and that it is, and I quote here, ‘hostile to human life.’”

Sam looked Dean right in the eyes. “I don’t...know, if Cas’ vessel made the trip.”

Dean felt a cold stab of fear in his stomach.

“Are you saying his vessel got _disintegrated?”_

“I don’t know, man, it just says ‘hostile to human life’,” Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “But Dean- _you’re_ human life. I don’t know if you could get in, y’know. _With_ your body.”

Dean slumped against the table. That's what he was afraid of.

“The Empty is not hostile to human life in the way that you think it is,” Came a voice from behind them, “It would not destroy a human vessel.”

Dean whirled around in his chair so fast that his back cracked.

It was _Jack_.

Jack was standing, fully corporeal, in the corner of the library, holding a _dog_ in his arms.

“Jack!!” Dean and Sam exclaimed.

The dog in Jack’s arms whined, and wiggled his way out, bounding over and jumping into Dean’s lap.

“Miracle?” Dean gasped, petting the dog’s all-too-familiar golden fur, “Is that you?”

Miracle snuffled her snout into Dean’s coat.

“Hey, who’s a good girl?” Dean murmured, rubbing her floppy ears.

“The nature of the Empty is abhorrent to humans,” Jack continued calmly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, “Humans abhor a vacuum, of course. But-”

“Shut up for a second and come here,” Sam said, striding over and embracing him, “Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jack said, returning the embrace.

With Miracle investigating the floor of the library, Dean jumped up to greet Jack too.

“C’mere, kid,” he said, throwing his arms around him and holding him tight.

Through the hug, he could feel the thrumming of Jack’s barely-contained power, vibrating under his fingertips.

“I thought you were gonna be all, uh, ‘hands off’,” Dean said, finally releasing him.

“For the most part,” Jack acknowledged, “But...Castiel is a matter of great importance to me.”

“Us too, buddy,” Sam said.

“As I come into my new power, I miss his...expertise,” Jack said, weighing his words, “And I feel…guilt, for allowing Castiel to sacrifice himself on my behalf. His absence has caused a lot of pain.”

“Wait a minute, let’s get one thing straight,” Dean said, pointing a finger at Jack, “What Cas did? Not your fault, and _never_ will be. Any parent would do what he did for their kid in a heartbeat.”

"Never blame yourself for that, Jack," Sam added.

Jack nodded, swallowing hard.

“I don’t have long in this vessel,” He said, walking along the length of the library table, “It’s quite painful to compress myself into it and appear before you, but…”

He shrugged, “You two deserve to have me, fully present.”

Dean softened. Even as a literal God, that kid could still shatter his heart with his sincerity.

“We appreciate that, Jack,” said Sam solemnly.

“So, if you have any questions,” Jack said, sitting down at the table, “Now’s the time.”

“Could _you_ get us into the Empty?” asked Dean.

Jack shook his head.

“The power I currently possess,” Jack said, running his fingers along the edge of the table, “That of...Creation, is diametrically opposed to what the Empty is. I have no power inside of it.”

“Plus, I don’t even have _blood_ anymore,” Jack said, suddenly sounding like an excited child, “Look!”

He summoned a knife and stabbed it into his arm.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!,” Sam and Dean both shouted discordantly, reaching across the table in vain, but...when Jack removed the knife, only golden light shone out of the wound.

“It still kinda hurts, though,” Jack noted, placing the knife back on the table.

“Don’t...don’t give us _heart attacks_ like that, kid,” Dean ordered, slumping back down and clutching his chest.

“Okay, okay, but,” Sam said, trying to get things back on track, “You _have_ woken up Cas before, from outside of the Empty. Right?”

Jack closed the hole in his skin with a wave, and sighed.

“The...other part, of my newfound power,” Jack said, “Is that interfering purposefully with the contents of the Empty, especially to interfere with a Deal made on my behalf, would be considered a ‘bad move’, and probably an ‘act of war’.”

Jack’s air quotes were so achingly _Cas_ that Dean had to suppress a smile, despite that being pretty devastatingly bad news.

“But,” Jack said, “I cannot be held responsible for what humans do themselves, with their own free will.”

He lifted a finger, and a book fell off the shelf, conveniently flipping open to a specific page.

“Whoops,” Jack deadpanned with a small smile.

Sam leaped out of his chair to retrieve the book, fumbling with his glasses as he scanned the page.

“Hell portals?” Sam read aloud, furrowing his brow.

Jack lifted another finger, and another book flew off the shelf.

“Whoops again,” Jack said, smiling a bit too wide, “My human side is just so clumsy.”

“H-heaven portals?” asked Sam, looking back up at Jack, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Heaven and Hell, and other, similar realms...are not as different as they may seem on first glance,” Jack said, with the heaviness of wisdom, “I understand that, now. And to save Castiel, you must understand as well.”

Jack lifted his finger one more time, and the book that Dean had tossed across the room suddenly returned to the table, intact.

“Intent,” Sam read in a whisper, eyes flicking from one book, to the other, to the other.

Until his jaw _dropped._

“Are you telling me that-that it’s all the _same_ -that you could just use _intent_ to get-” Sam stuttered, looking up at Jack for confirmation.

Jack grinned, a huge, genuine thing, but then grimaced in pain.

“I must go,” Jack said, eyes lighting up gold, “You have what you need.”

With that, he was gone.

Sam pored over the three books, looking between them and scribbling things, while Dean just...ruffled Miracle’s fur, and waited. Sam’s genius gears were clearly turning in his brain, and Dean would only get in the way if he tried to get involved.

“Oh, my God,” said Sam, putting a hand over his mouth, “Dean, this is _huge.”_

“What?”

“If what Jack is leading me to is right, then the whole _world_ of human-based spellwork is about to change,” Sam said, something dawning on him as he spoke, “It-it totally redefines our understanding of all the realms of this universe, of interdimensional _space-”_

“Sam,” Dean interrupted, “What does it mean for _Cas?”_

“Okay. Okay,” Sam said, closing his eyes and mentally rerouting. “So basically, there are...portal spells, that you can do, that will basically...teleport a human vessel to Heaven, or Hell. Think Dante’s Inferno.”

“Dante’s Inferno is real?!” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Yeah-well, it was at least INSPIRED by real-ahh, that doesn’t matter right now,” Sam said, shaking his head, “Point is--there’s no specific spell like that for the Empty. Not one that can get a human on the inside, anyway. But, based on the hints that Jack gave me...the physical spells themselves might not even _matter_.”

He looked up at Dean.

“All that matters is the Intent.”

“The what?”

“Intent, Dean,” Sam said, jumping up to pace, “Focusing on your goal, to the exclusion of all else. The Free Will specialty. Basically...while you’re casting the spell, you can control where it takes you, if you just _want_ it enough.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked, feeling a little underwhelmed, “That’s _it?_ ”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? All this time, we’ve been treating Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, _everything_ , like they’re fundamentally different, but...they and their borders might be made of the same building blocks after all, and we can _take advantage_ of it. This kind of thing will _revolutionize_ arcane spellwork,” said Sam, clearly trying to hold back how much he wanted to _geek out_. “But in this case, the lore checks out, the basic spell isn’t too hard...”

He looked back at Dean.

“I think...we could get Cas back,” Sam said, a grin spreading across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have. a lot of feelings on how I think the universe should work, given all I know about supernatural, and also from my time in the good omens fandom. The chapter after this one contains my original "wouldn't it be funny if" thought that spiraled out into all of that, see y'all soon.


	3. Intent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio of hunters prepare to send Dean into the Empty, and Eileen makes a breakthrough.

They wasted no time, gathering up what they needed.

They had most of what they could potentially need, stored away in the bunker, and Eileen was already out on a little hunter’s shopping trip, but Sam still made a run out to Rowena’s place anyway. If they were going to be doing experimental spellwork, they’d need all the help they could get.

So they spread out her journals, along with the three Jack-approved Latin tomes, and got to work.

Miracle, by some miracle, seemed to know instinctively what to chew on and what _not_ to chew on, as she never touched a book or a spell ingredient but she DID chew up one of Dean’s shoes.

“Why just _one_ shoe?” complained Dean, holding up the busted sneaker, “What’s she got against my _left_ foot specifically?”

“Maybe she’s right-handed,” Sam shrugged, turning the page of his book.

Dean shook his head, about to protest at the audacity of his little brother to be funnier than him, right as the bunker door opened up.

“Hey guys,” Eileen said, signing a greeting from the top of the stairs, stopping in her tracks and observing the mess of books and ingredients littered about the front room.

“Wow,” she remarked, “What’d I miss?”

“Uhmmm,” Sam let out a breath, holding out his hands and arcing them to outside his shoulder width.

“A lot?” Eileen mirrored, much more quickly and precisely.

“A lot,” Sam confirmed, mirroring her back again.

Miracle, sensing activity, came bounding up the stairs to sniff at Eileen, rubbing up against her legs and getting fur all over her jeans.

“You got a DOG?!” Eileen asked, kneeling down to scratch behind her ears.

“That’s, uh, part of the ‘a lot’,” Dean replied, copying the sign himself, “Did you get the lambs blood I texted you about?”

“Yeah, I got it,” she said, half-running down the steps with Miracle at her heels and holding out a vial.

“Thank ya very much, ma’am,” Dean said, plucking it from her and setting it in the ingredient pile.

“Now, can you explain what’s going on with your...top secret project?” she asked.

“We’re going to...try, to get Cas out of the Empty,” Sam said.

Eileen’s eyebrows shot up. “You can do that?”

“Not sure, yet,” Dean said, picking up his carving knife, “But, as the Magic 8-Ball says...signs point to yes.”

“I always got ‘ask again later’,” Eileen said, putting her bag down on the table, “Every single time.”

“I was afraid of Magic 8-Balls, as a kid,” Sam admitted, “One of the first cases I ever worked, somebody had trapped a ghost in one, and I picked it up, and…”

“Screamed like a little bitch,” Dean completed, “When Casper showed his gorgeous little face.”

Eileen snorted.

“Hey, I was _four!_ ” Sam exclaimed, “After that, I thought _all_ Magic 8-Balls had ghosts in them! Toy stores were a living nightmare for me!”

Dean and Eileen laughed.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Eileen said, touching his arm, “That’s just...it’s adorable.”

Sam harrumphed.

“Sooooo,” Eileen said, bouncing on her heels, “What’s this...exciting new discovery that you mentioned on the phone?”

Sam’s mood 180’d in the blink of an eye.

“Oh! Right, I’ve been dying to tell you—we had a visit from _Jack_.”

“What?!” Eileen’s jaw dropped, “Isn’t he, like, _God_ now?”

“Yeah, I thought we wouldn’t ever see him again! But he showed up, in the library, and he told us like, a _bunch_ of stuff, let me show you…”

Dean hung back, sharpening the cadaver bone, as Sam caught Eileen up to speed on the discoveries they had made, and the theories they’d been working on. As Sam explained the whole Intent thing, her eyes lit up more and more.

He smiled. Good for those two nerdy kids.

“Sam, this is blowing my _mind_ ,” Eileen said, when he was finally finished.

“I know!” he exclaimed, “The theory is pretty sound, but I just wish we could _test_ it somehow.”

Eileen scanned the page with a finger, thinking hard.

“Why don’t you test it on me?” she finally asked.

“Eileen, no, you just came _back_ ,” Sam said, grabbing her hand, “We would _never_ ask you to-”

“No, Sam,” she interrupted, backing up so she could sign, “I mean...I have been _saying spells_ with my mouth ever since I’ve been a hunter. And I hate it! If...if Intent is as big of a component as you think it is, do you think I could maybe…”

Her hands were already way ahead of her, fingers twisting in a little circle.

“...Convert one, to ASL?” she finished.

The brothers were stunned into silence.

“She’s the smart one,” Dean said loudly, signing the word ‘smart’ as he looked pointedly at Sam, “Just so we’re clear here.”

“I know,” Sam said, turning back to her with a smile.

“Let’s give it a try,” Sam said, sweeping his thumbs forward from his torso.

Eileen beamed.

-

They decided on a simple tracking spell. No extra ingredients necessary, just a map and a flame and an incantation. Eileen set about translating the Latin into ASL, pacing around the bunker testing out different words, scribbling down notes, and testing more signs in deep concentration.

“You know,” Eileen said, looking up from her notebook, “This may involve setting fire to something indoors, but...I think it’s the least destructive spell I _know_.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam admitted, “Most of the spells I know are kinda...apocalypse-grade. They’re all kind of useless when it’s not the end of the world.”

“You two have the weirdest skill set of any hunters I know,” Eileen smiled.

“We’ve had the weirdest _lives_ of any hunters we know,” Dean replied, but she had already started walking away, signing to herself.

“If this works,” Dean said, turning to Sam, “Do you think we could finally move on from the Dark Ages and quit using _Latin?”_

Sam considered.

“Maybe,” he said, “But I wouldn’t take this show on the road just yet. We don’t know how far it can be pushed, or how much training it would take. But? I-I’m kinda hopeful!”

“Man, the Men of Letters are gonna _freak_ ,” Dean chuckled.

“Guys,” Eileen interrupted, walking back up to them, “I think I got it.”

Sam nodded once. “Let’s do it.”

-

Dean found an old roadmap of Kansas in the glove compartment of the Impala, and stretched it out on the cleared table.

“Alriiiight,” Dean said, rubbing his hands together, “I am ready, to be _tracked_.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Sam said softly.

Eileen took a breath and closed her eyes, concentrating hard.

Then she started to move her hands.

She signed slowly, silently, precisely, with not a fingernail out of place, only opening her eyes again when she was completely done fingerspelling Dean’s full name.

Then she tipped the candle, and lit the map on fire.

At first, it just burned, as dry-ass paper like that was wont to do. Dean held his breath as the whole map lit up, curling and flaking.

But then it stopped, as if blown out by an unseen force.

The three of them raced forward, crowding around the table as the last embers cooled off, to find-

A clean, unburnt circle, labelled LEBANON.

“It worked!!” Eileen squealed, jumping into Sam’s arms as he spun her around.

“Yeahhh!!!” Dean crowed, slapping the both of them on the back.

“Eileen, this-this is REVOLUTIONARY!” Sam crowed, holding her face, “This is-the breakthrough, in accessibility _alone_ …”

“Big win, for the Deaf community today,” Eileen smiled as she signed, “Yay!”

-

They ultimately decided on Rowena’s hell transport spell for their starting point. Time tested, Winchester approved, Dean just hoped that their Intent theory would make it send him to the right place. If not, well, Rowena would probably appreciate the visit, right?

She’d probably laugh at him.

“Are you both going?” Eileen asked, “Or is it just Dean?”

“I like how you just _assumed_ it was me,” Dean muttered.

“It just makes sense, you need Intent,” Sam said, “And, out of the two of us? Your intent on Cas is the strongest.”

Sam had the _gall_ to wiggle his eyebrows.

“I never should have said a _damn_ thing,” Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Eileen turned to Sam, crossing her arms across her chest then twiddling her thumbs vertically.

Sam nodded. “Yuuuuup,” he said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

Eileen’s face cracked into an equally huge grin.

Dean made a mental note to actually start _learning_ sign language.

“Earth to Sammy! We’re doing an experimental spell here!” Dean reminded, waving his hands in front of his stupid brother’s smirking face.

“Well, what I _mean_ is, Dean,” Sam said, smile fading, “That you’re the only one here that has seen the Empty, up close and personal.”

Sam looked at him. They both knew what he meant.

“I know that moment was...painful for you, but it’s also really strong,” Sam said, “The stronger the thought, for good or for bad, the more Intent you’re gonna get out of it. And we need as much Intent as we can muster up, right now, or you’re gonna end up in Hell.”

Dean nodded, swallowing hard.

It was almost mundane, in its familiarity. Herbs in a bowl. Blood of the summoner, or in this case, the traveler, drawn by the bone of a cadaver. Holy oil. Some other assorted powders and oils, twisted into a little sachet that Sam pressed into his hand.

“This is your ticket home,” Sam said, “You’re gonna need to light it up in order to get back.”

“Alright, sounds simple enough,” Dean said, stowing it in his inside pocket, “Get in, wake up Sleeping Beauty, get out.”

“And don’t die,” Sam said pointedly.

“And don’t die,” Dean agreed.

Sam pursed his lips, and pulled Dean into an embrace.

“Love you, brother,” he whispered, “Come home safe.”

Dean’s lungs lost all their air at that. He knew there were risks, to what he was doing, but nothing really set the fear going in his heart like hearing an I-love-you from _Sam._

Fuck it. Nothing left unsaid.

“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

He stepped back, and gripped the bowl of ingredients on the table with both hands. For the sake of his family, his _whole_ family, this had better work.

“Initium ad nihil permittatur,” Dean said, heart in his throat, and closed his eyes, calling up the memory of Cas being taken from him.

It wasn’t hard. Cas’ last few moments were burned permanently into his synapses. His contented face, stained with a drying tear, slowly swallowed up from toe to head until there was nothing left of him but inky darkness, stretching across the room-

“Do it,” Dean croaked.

Sam lit the fire.

Dean felt a quick and sharp tug, and winked out of the mortal plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally the only story I can focus on right now, and I want it to be done SO BAD. Short chapter today, next chapter's gonna be quite a bit longer. See y'all then.
> 
> edit: Miracle is apparently a girl!


	4. Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself in the Empty, and things go...a different way than he expected, as he learns something new about being a human. And Cas...Cas finally learns something about Dean.

The Empty was...well. It was empty.

Not empty like an empty room, it was empty like _nothing._

And it was nothing like Dean had ever seen before. It was simultaneously infinite and claustrophobic, no echo, no sense of scale, no anything at all. Theoretically there was air, since he was breathing, and theoretically there was _ground_ , considering that he wasn’t floating, but the boundary between the two felt a little...unsubstantial.

It was eerie.

“Alright,” Dean said to himself, reaching down to get his blade out of his pocket.

He froze. His entire body, clothes and all, was covered in little golden specks of _light_.

He lifted a hand closer to his face to inspect them. Twinkling pinpricks, no bigger than little grains of sand, clung to his skin and clothes. He was sparkly like a goddamn Twilight vampire, he realized with a shudder, and he had no idea _why_. Lingering effects of the transport spell, maybe? He didn’t know.

He leaned in close and blew, sending some of them swirling off into the Empty like dandelion fluff on the breeze.

What a weird fucking place he was in.

Dean took a couple careful steps in the blackness. He couldn’t see a damn thing, and his little Edward-Cullen sparkles weren’t exactly floodlights.

“Boy,” Dean spoke aloud, his voice both too loud and too quiet, “This place really could use a lamp or two.”

 _Click_.

Dean whirled toward the noise, blade in hand, but paused at the sight of two...lamps.

Not torches, or flaming skulls, fuelled by the souls of the damned, they were just...two tasteful floor lamps, about six feet apart.

Exactly what he had been imagining when he made that interior design joke.

“Huh,” Dean said, lowering his blade, “How about a, uhm…” he cast around in his mind, “A nice, comfy _chair?”_

_Whoosh._

An overstuffed sofa appeared between the two lamps.

It was a perfect manifestation of the concept of a sofa, looking both comfortable and well-worn, like the one he had crashed on at Bobby’s so many times.

Dean didn’t know how, after all the shit he’d seen in his life, he could still find it within his withered soul to be surprised, but he couldn’t help but blink in silence for a few moments at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Well,” he said, turning back to the matter at hand, “ _That’s_ weird.”

Weirder still were the mysterious golden particles of light, flaking off of him with every step he took and suspending themselves in the Empty’s atmosphere.

This was supposed to be the place where all angels and demons went when they died, and he knew a LOT of dead angels and demons, but...he didn’t see, hear, or step on any of them. Where were all the souls in this realm? Was he in the wrong place?

“God, I wish I had a MAP-”

 _Thwip_.

Dean suddenly found a folded road map in his hand.

He let it drop to the floor. A map of Kansas was not going to help him in the Empty.

But that did give him an idea.

“I need a map...to Castiel,” he said firmly, holding the concept in his mind with as much frickin’ capital-I _Intent_ as he could muster.

A brown, old, treasure map suddenly appeared in his other hand, complete with a YOU ARE HERE, a dashed line to follow, and a big X marked with the word CASTIEL.

It looked like the puzzle on the back of a cereal box, but it was all he had to go on.

“This is officially the dumbest shit I’ve ever done,” Dean muttered, but he still strode ahead into the Empty, holding the map out in front of him like the world’s loneliest pirate.

As he walked away from his manifested lamps, the darkness enveloped him once more, leaving nothing but the little glowy bits to light his way. He still had no idea what the hell they were, but they didn’t seem immediately malevolent, so...they could stay. Their presence was comforting, in a way, in contrast to the unnerving absence of literally anything else. They reminded him of fireflies, quivering in the air on a warm summer night. Or how the stars looked, out the window of his last ill-fated airplane trip.

“Would be nice to have an in-flight movie right about now,” Dean joked to the empty air.

The whoosh-static of a CRT TV clicking on hit his ear.

Dean squinted into the distance. He could just barely make out a little square of artificial light and the fuzzy, muffled noise of a low-quality motel TV.

Just like the ones that he still instinctively pictured when he heard the word TV.

As Dean drew closer, the TV seemed to get...stronger. As if, by the act of proximity to him, it were being pulled through a veil into this reality. But why did it appear so far away?

With just a few more steps, he could finally hear the melody streaming from its fuzzy speakers.

_I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream_

He let out a chuckle, despite himself. How appropriate.

Come to think of it, the only time he had actually _seen_ Sleeping Beauty was on a motel TV like this, one night when Dad was out on a hunt. Sam couldn’t have been more than three years old, but he was _enthralled,_ staring with his wide baby eyes at the gorgeous colors on screen.

And maybe...seven year old Dean had been, too.

_I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_

The TV floated eerily at Dean’s chest level, casting a blue-white glow on its immediate surroundings—mostly inky darkness, a few floating golden particles…

And a man-shaped silhouette, laying in front of it, that Dean would recognize _anywhere_.

“Cas!” Dean yelped, running and collapsing by his side.

_Yet I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem_

Dean put a hand on Cas’ chest, seeing and _feeling_ it rise and fall by the blue light off the TV, and relief flooded through his body. Jesus Christ, he was actually _alive._

“Wake up, Cas,” Dean said, shaking him by his trench coat lapels, “Wake up!”

Cas just flopped in his grip like a rag doll, and Dean was struck with a cold spike of fear. How the hell was he supposed to wake an angel up from _eternal sleep?_

_But if I know you, I know what you’ll do_

He lifted his head as the idea struck him.

He looked up at Aurora, dancing fluidly on the screen, and back at Cas.

His mouth went dry.

_You’ll love me at once_

He cupped Cas’ face with a hand, heart pounding, brushing his thumb gently over the cheekbone.

_The way you did once_

He leaned down carefully, reverently, closing his eyes as his lips made contact with Castiel’s.

_Upon a dream_

As he pulled away, a few golden pinpricks lingered on Cas’ lips, before they disappeared like melting snowflakes.

Cas awoke with a gasp, wide-eyed and thrashing, as if waking from a nightmare.

“Cas, it’s okay! It’s okay, hey, it’s me,” Dean said, grabbing at his upper sleeves as Cas clawed at his jacket, “Hey. It’s me. I got you.”

Castiel’s baby-blue eyes suddenly focused, and his mouth fell open.

“Dean,” he whispered in awe, and Dean almost _cried_ , “ _Dean-”_

Dean gripped two fistfuls of the old familiar trenchcoat and raised him to a seated position, crushing him in a hug. He let one hand come up to cradle the back on his head, running his fingers through the short strands as he clutched Cas so tight that he shook from it. Cas’ hands landed on his back, hesitant at first, but then his breath caught and he gripped him right back with the feral intensity of a desperate man.

Dean’s breath escaped in a gasp. Worth it, worth it, everything leading up to this moment was worth it, it felt like coming _home._

After a long moment, Cas pulled back, looking Dean up and down.

“Dean, what are you-” Cas still seemed dazed, starry-eyed by the light of the television, “And-and _how_ are you _-”_

“I’ve come to get you, Cas,” Dean whispered, grinning like mad, “It’s time to go home.”

Suddenly, the amorphous ground _rumbled_.

Cas’ face fell at the speed of light.

“It’s awake,” Cas said, looking frightened, “It’s awake because _I’m_ awake, you-you shouldn’t have come-”

“Cas, it’s _okay_ ,” Dean said, and for the first time he really, truly believed it, “I have a plan.”

Dean stood and held out a hand, and Cas clasped it, climbing shakily to his feet.

“Oh, Castiel,” came a voice from behind them, “You’re _reeeeally_ in trouble now.”

Dean whirled around just in time to see an amalgam of black slime, writhing and undulating and finally forming itself into—Cas?

Dean put his body in front of Cas’ instinctively.

“Cas, what-”

“That’s the Empty,” Cas sighed, “It likes wearing my _face_.”

“I FINALLY get to sleep,” the Empty said, in a mockery of Cas’ voice, “After your _nephilim’s_ little stunt, and WHAT happens? Oh, nothing, only a HUMAN comes barging in, starts LITTERING the atmosphere with all these pieces of Free Will-”

It waved a few golden spots away from its face, “Eugh, and MUDDYING up my empty space with its ACTS OF CREATION!!!”

Dean’s ears rang from the inhuman undertone of the Empty’s screeching, but his brain rang from all that new information. Free Will? Acts of creation?

 _The Empty is not hostile to human life in the way that you think it is_.

 _That’s_ what Jack was really saying. Not hostile as in dangerous to _him_ , hostile as in, _he_ was dangerous to _it._

And it _knew it_.

“I should have known that it _all_ connects with the single most ANNOYING angel I have ever hosted!” it continued, “You will _suffer_ for this!”

The Empty’s arm melted into black sludge, and it _swung_ at them.

“Hey! Don’t you touch him!” Dean shouted, and a medieval, wooden shield manifested in his hand, batting away the Empty’s goopy looking arm.

It screamed in pain.

“We made a DEAL, Castiel!” the Empty growled, cradling its arm, “How could you DO this to me?”

“I can assure you,” Castiel replied, far more calm than he had any right to be, “I had _nothing_ to do with this.”

He turned to look at Dean, and _oh_ , that eye contact hit a different part of his soul now that he _knew_.

“This is what is known as a ‘classic Dean Winchester move’,” Cas said lovingly.

Dean gave him a wink.

“Man,” he said, turning back to the Empty, “You should’ve thought twice before taking _this_ guy.”

He manifested a hefty baseball bat in his other hand, relishing in the act of creation.

“Shoulda known that a side effect of nabbing Castiel? Is _pissing off the Winchesters_ . And we _really_ don’t play nice.”

With the word “side effect”, Dean had accidentally manifested a comically large blue and white pill.

“Now ain’t THAT a bitter pill to swallow,” he grinned, not one to waste an opportunity for a terrible joke.

The Empty recoiled with a choked-off scream.

“Now, me and my angel are leaving,” Dean said, pointing the baseball bat at the Empty, “I’m gonna _raise_ this motherfucker from perdition, and you? You are gonna _let us go_.”

“Ohh, you’re the very _picture_ of bravado, Dean,” said the Empty, slinking right up to him, “But you are in no position to make _demands._ ”

It clenched a fist, and Dean’s ribs suddenly felt like they were caving in.

He fell to the floor, wheezing.

“Wanna bet?” Dean grimaced, concentrating as hard as he possibly could.

THUNK, went a fairly impressive stretch of interstate, winding its way through the blackness of the Empty.

The Empty screeched and collapsed in pain, loosening its psychic death grip on his ribcage.

Dean created a billboard that read “I’M TAKING HIM WITH ME.”

He considered, then made another one, that just said “FUCK YOU.”

Dean giggled, just for the hell of it. His mind was _alight_ with the joy of creation. He’d spent his whole life trying to make up for his human weaknesses with hunter tricks, spells, and whatever else he could get his hands on, but...just being a plain ol’ human? Man, it had never been more fun!

The golden particles of Free Will were thickening, whipping around the three of them like a snowstorm of light.

“You’re USING UP my EMPTY!” shouted the Empty through gritted teeth, becoming less Cas-like and more amorphous as it spoke, “My last _tiny_ pocket of un-Created domain, and you’re RUINING it, you stupid little meat bag!! You’re ruining it for ALL of the angels and demons who slumber here!”

Part of Dean, the angry part of him, wanted to do just that. Manifest the pyramids of Giza brick by brick, give this sadistic entity a taste of its own medicine until the whole realm collapsed in on itself.

 _Salt and burn,_ said his instincts, _salt and burn_.

But then he looked back at Cas, and realized that he didn’t want to cause any more destruction.

He just wanted to go _home_.

“Alright, the Empty,” Dean said, sighing, “If that _is_ your real name. Let me make you a deal.”

“Dean, don’t-” Cas said urgently from behind him.

“I’ll take, _all_ my shit and go,” Dean said, overrunning him with a gesture, “IF, and only if, you let me leave WITH CASTIEL.”

The Empty surveyed the earth objects littering its dimension, and grimaced.

“Ugh, FIIINE, you can _keep_ him,” it spat, black oozing from its mouth, “Deal. He’s far more trouble than he’s _worth_ , anyway.”

“Well, you know the saying,” Dean said, throwing an arm around cas’ shoulder and patting his chest with the other, “One man’s trash, is another man’s treasure.”

Cas placed his hand over Dean’s and squeezed it.

“Alright, let me just-” Dean said, fishing around for the ritual sachet Sam had given him.

“No, no, no, don’t _bother_ . I cannot stomach another single _mote_ of Intent,” sighed the Empty, “It doesn’t _agree_ with me. Just let me do it.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably, “Thanks?”

The Empty looked at them both with a dead-eyed stare.

“Good riddance,” it said, and its gooey hand reached out once more, enveloping them in blackness.

Dean held onto Cas for dear life as they flew between dimensions, covered in the inky darkness of the Empty, until they crashed on the bunker floor with a SPLORCH.

And immediately almost fucking died as the rest of the shit that Dean had made came crashing down around them.

Cas suddenly pushed Dean away to make a sweeping, upward gesture with his arms, and collapsed backward.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean said urgently, scrambling to his side.

“I just banished a half-mile of interstate highway, and TWO billboards, to _outside_ the bunker instead of _inside_ of it,” Castiel deadpanned, staying flat on his back. “It took a fair amount of my power. You’re _welcome_.”

“Sorry about that,” Dean said, a bit sheepishly, helping Cas sit up again with a steady hand on his back.

Cas tilted his head.

“Dean, you don’t have to apologize,” he said softly, “You _saved_ me.”

Dean’s heart overflowed, and he could have kissed him right there if Sam’s voice hadn’t cut through their little moment.

“Cas! Dean!” he was shouting, tossing a cup of holy water on the purple flames and racing past all the garbage to descend upon them, falling to his knees and dragging them both at once into a choking embrace.

“You’re okay,” Sam muttered, squeezing them tight in his grip, “Oh my god, you’re _okay.”_

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said, muffled into his shoulder.

“ _Hello_ ,” Sam parroted in a gravelly voice as he let both of them go, “God, Cas, it’s _so_ good to see you.”

He gestured out, to the broken TV, the cartoonish pill, the lamps. “But what the fuck is all this?”

“Long story,” Dean sighed, “We-”

Right at that moment, Miracle came CAREENING into the room, yelping with excitement and jumping into Dean’s lap.

“Hey girl,” Dean said, scratching her behind the ears, “Miss me?”

“You got a dog,” Cas stated, holding his hand out for her to sniff curiously.

“That’s also a long story,” Sam said.

“Hi guys,” said Eileen, waving awkwardly with the leash from behind Sam, “Welcome back.”

“Bring it in, Eileen,” Dean motioned, holding out his arms, and she came to embrace them as well, signing something to Cas that he returned.

“So, did you, ah...get to have your chick-flick moment?” asked Sam, mouth twitching with the effort to hold in a smile.

“No, it was more of a, uh…” Dean trailed off, looking sideways at Cas, “Disney princess moment.”

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. “A _what?”_

Eileen gasped.

“Sleeping Beauty?!” she signed.

Sam’s mouth fell open, and looked back to Dean. “Did you _actually_ Sleeping Beauty him?”

“Maybe,” muttered Dean.

“Yes,” nodded Castiel, “It was an almost identical situation.”

“Oh boy,” Eileen said, pointing directly at Dean, “You are _never_ allowed to make fun of me and Sam _ever_ again.”

“Right,” Sam agreed.

“Hey, it worked, alright?!” Dean said gruffly, “Get off my case!”

He glanced as Cas, who sagged almost imperceptibly, pain in his eyes.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit he didn’t mean-

Fuck, Cas didn’t know how he _felt_ yet!

How could he be so stupid?! Telling him was his number one goal, the single thing that powered him through all of this mess in the first place! And now because of his defensive comment, Cas was sitting there probably thinking that he only kissed him out of _necessity,_ that Dean’s lips weren’t still tingling with the memory, and that the urge to kiss him again wasn’t so strong that he thought he might black out, all because Dean hadn’t fucking _said it yet_ , oh Jesus what a disaster-

“You good, man?” Sam asked, breaking him from his reverie.

And that’s how he suddenly realized that he was, in fact, about two and a half seconds away from _losing_ _it._

“Sam?” Dean said, voice strained, “Would you please, uhm...give us a moment?”

“Oh! S-sure,” Sam said, looking suddenly awkward.

“It’s good to have you back, Cas,” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he signed to Eileen with a little clap, whistling for Miracle and all but dragging them both out the door, clicking it shut behind them.

Dean looked to Cas, opened his mouth, and promptly burst into tears.

Through his blurry vision, he saw Cas startle, then immediately step forward and hold him, hands tight around his waist.

Dean let himself sob, into Cas’ neck. First the bunker floor, then with Sam in the kitchen, and now this, the waterworks seemed to always be nearby, lately. Dean felt like something broke inside of him every time every time Cas had turned up dead, but this last time, he thinks he had finally shattered. Maybe it was because he couldn’t pretend anymore that Cas wasn’t...well, what he was, to him. Something bigger than he ever let himself show, or think about, something that had exploded in intensity with the simultaneous hope and despair that Cas’ confession had inspired in him.

There was still a voice in his head that told him he was being a little bitch, but he ignored it. If there was anything worth crying for, it was the waterfall of emotions that came from having the love of your life come back from the dead. No matter how many times it happened, it wasn’t exactly something you could get used to.

His sobs petered to a stop, as the sensations around him began to ground him. Cas’ familiar scent. The well-worn fabric of his trench coat. The soothing motions of hands on his back.

“Okay,” he said, planting his face in Cas’ shoulder, “Okay. I’m good.”

“Now, I, uh, don’t want to presume,” Castiel said carefully, pulling back, “But, uhm...there is no denying that I woke up from my eternal sleep to your lips on mine, and the ambiguity as to _why_ is…”

Cas sighed.

“I have to admit, it’s bothering me.”

Welp. No time like the present.

“Right,” Dean said, sniffling, gaining his composure back, “Yeah. I guess I better explain myself.”

He wiped his eyes, and looked back up at Cas, taking a deep breath.

“Cas, I love you,” Dean said, reaching up and touching his face, “Too, I mean.”

Cas had the audacity to look _shocked_ , and Dean let out just one huffed breath of a laugh.

“Yeah. Betcha didn’t see _that_ coming.”

“R-really?” Cas asked, a bit breathlessly.

“Yes, really,” Dean said, unable to wipe the smile off his face, unable to stop drinking in the delighted look on Cas’.

“God, I’ve been gone on you for _years_ ,” Dean chuckled, “And I cannot believe that you stood there, right in front of my head-over-heels ass, and just _assumed_ that I didn’t love you back.”

His whole body trembled with a different kind of adrenaline, stomach bubbling with nervous warmth.

Castiel, angel of the lord, was _speechless_.

“You-you really started off strong, with all that ‘the one thing I want I can’t have’ crap,” Dean continued, “You _can_ , you dumbass, you _can._ Did you not even think to, you know...ask?”

Castiel let out a wet breath, and a tear slid down his cheek.

Dean wiped it away.

“I-In my defense,” he said, “You didn’t exactly say anything either.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I was a little bitch about it too. I guess...I always thought that angels couldn’t... _do_ love, this way.”

“Usually they don’t,” Cas acknowledged, “But in case you haven’t heard, I’m kind of the, uh. Wild card, in all of Chuck’s plans. The only one of me that didn’t do what I was told.”

“Hey,” Dean said, sliding his hand down to Cas’ shoulder, “I owe my _life_ , a hundred times over, to you not doing what you’re told.”

“Well,” Cas said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, slotting his fingers along the ghost of the handprint scar, “I learned from the best.”

Dean choked on a laugh and a sob, and drew him in for a kiss.

Fuck that Disney princess moment from earlier. Hearing Cas, the _angel_ , sigh into his mouth and eagerly return the kiss, blew that panicked nonsense straight out of the water.

It set Dean alight in every possible way, just like the heady rush of creation inside of the Empty. They were certainly creating _something_ , with this. A moment, maybe. A relationship. Something better than they had been by themselves. Something like...requited love, a long time coming.

Yet another act of joyful creation.

They broke apart, just to breathe.

“Cas, I, uhm,” Dean mumbled, touching their foreheads together, “I never want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” Cas promised, “Not forever. I always come back to you, Dean. Even if I don’t know how, at first, I will always find a way.”

“You do, don’t you,” Dean said.

“This relationship, however,” Cas said, shifting uncomfortably, “It’s uhm. Unconventional. Angel, human, you know. I forsee some...difficulties.”

Dean laughed.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Cas?” Dean said, “We’ve been in each other’s lives for twelve _years_. After all the shit we’ve been through together…”

He pretended to think about it for one second. “I _think_ we can figure this one out.”

“Making it up as we go, right?” Cas supplied.

“Exactly,” Dean said, “I don’t want a bunch of things to change, anyway, I just want...I want to spend time with you. Where I don’t have to worry so much about what I say, or-or what I do, or how much I’m giving away every time I touch you-”

He ended with a choked noise, as Cas took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Hey,” Cas said, grinning suddenly.

“What?”

“I love you.”

Dean actually _blushed_.

“It feels...different,” Cas said, “Saying it under better circumstances.”

“It sure does,” Dean said, and kissed him again.

This one was more desperate. Dean threw both arms around Cas’ neck, Cas slid his up Dean’s sides and made him _shiver_ , and oh God he was _allowed_ to, he was _allowed_ to get drunk on the sensation, _allowed_ to run his hands through Cas’ hair and surge forward, making Cas stumble backward as he attempted to get closer, closer, _closer-_

“Castiel.”

They split apart with a start to see Jack, standing in the corner of the room.

Cas’ face lit up with joy.

“Jack!” he called, letting go of Dean to give his son a hug.

He froze, and stepped back, taking a good look at him.

“Jack,” Cas said in confusion, “I can see what you _are_ , how did you-what did you _do?”_

Cas looked him up and down.

“And how are you _corporeal_ right now?”

“It doesn’t feel right to come here without my body,” Jack smiled, “I can ‘hang’ long enough to say, welcome back to consciousness, Castiel.”

“It’s good to be back,” Cas said, touching his shoulders, “But you have a lot of explaining to do, young man.”

“Hey, why don’t we discuss this over a couple of beers?” Dean called, clapping his hands together, “The gang’s all here, let’s have a beer! Think you can hang for that long, Jack?”

And Jack, the omnipotent God in this universe, smiled.

“I think I could do that,” he said, and a case of chilled beer appeared on the table.

“Whoo, party!” Dean shouted, “Sam! Eileen! We’ve got a visitor!”

The two of them burst back in through the door with Miracle at their heels, greeting Jack warmly. Miracle even jumped right up into Jack’s arms, giving his face a few affectionate licks before jumping back down and investigating the strange new objects scattered about the room.

Dean smiled. Dog priorities, he didn’t miss them.

As they sat down at the table, Sam took a long, pointed look at Dean and Cas, at their rumpled clothes and mussed up hair, and smirked to himself.

“So, did Dean and Cas tell you the good news?” Sam asked Jack with a wink.

“Oh, they didn’t have to,” Jack said, “I could hear it, from both of them, like a prayer. Clear as a bell.”

Jack threw a look at Dean and Cas.

“‘He loves me.’”

Dean felt like he was about to perish from pure _sap_.

“Plus, when I arrived here, they were making out like _crazy_ ,” Jack said, “Like, I thought they were trying to eat each other’s _faces_ off.”

Sam snorted.

“I think, after all this time,” Cas said with a bit of indignation, “We _deserve_ a nice make out session or two.”

“This is fucking me up, hearing Cas say stuff like that,” said Sam, taking a swig of beer.

“Yeah, how do you think _I_ feel,” Dean said, flushed face in his hands.

“Oh, I think I know how you _wanna_ feel-”

“Careful Sam, I’m omniscient now,” Jack warned, “Well, mostly, anyway. Enough to know that you two definitely made out against that table while Dean was in the Empty.”

Eileen blushed.

“Ha hah!” Dean crowed, reaching over and slapping Jack on the back, “That’s my boy!”

-

Over their beers, they finally caught Cas up to speed on everything. Chuck, Jack, the state of the unverse, everything that had happened after his sacrifice.

“I’ve certainly missed a lot, this time,” Cas said, rubbing his head.

Dean caught his hand under the table.

“You okay, Jack?” Sam asked, “You’ve barely touched your beer.”

“This body is little more than a shell, containing my consciousness,” said Jack, “It means I can’t really drink. Doesn’t do anything for me.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Sam said sympathetically.

“I don’t mind,” Jack said, lifting his beer, “I just like hanging out with you guys.”

Man. The kid could always find a way to break your heart with the simplest of phrases.

“This...role, you have taken on,” Cas said finally, “This is a lot of responsibility. Perhaps more than any other being in this universe. Are you sure that you’re ready for such a thing?”

“I am the only living being that is capable of housing the unadulterated power that Chuck possessed,” Jack replied.

“That’s not what I asked,” Cas chided gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a _look_.

“Well, actually,” Jack said, putting his beer down, “About that. There was another reason I came here today.”

He turned to look at Cas.

“Now that I have taken on Chuck’s power, I can fully understand the scope of the _mess_ that he left behind,” he said, “I think I have a plan to fix it, but...I need some guidance. From you, Castiel.”

“Of course, Jack,” Cas said, “Anything you need.”

“Will you...will you help me speak with Amara?” Jack asked, straightening up, “I will need her help if I’m going to pull this off.”

Cas thought hard, and then slowly nodded.

“Okay. We can do that,” he said slowly, looking back at Jack, “We can do that.”

Jack smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Give me one week,” Castiel said, “That is all I ask. Then I will come to Heaven, and assist you in the negotiations.”

“A week?” came from Dean’s mouth before he could stop it, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest,” You’re-you’re just gonna _leave_ again?”

“Jack needs me,” Cas said simply, “I am sorry to go so soon. But rest assured that I will do all in my power to spend as much time on Earth with you as possible, Dean, for the rest of your human lifespan.”

“Human lifespan, you really know how to woo a guy,” Dean murmured.

“But listen,” he said, stronger this time, “It’s alright. I was just...not expecting that. We can do long-distance for a little bit. For Jack.”

Jack beamed.

“My vessel is reaching its limit,” Jack announced, as his eyes began to glow, “I must go. Thanks for the beer, guys.”

“See you soon,” waved Cas, and Jack was gone.

As he left, the room was swept by a feeling—a good mood, general contentment, followed by a sweep of melancholy.

“To Jack,” Cas said, lifting his beer.

“To Jack,” everyone repeated, clinking them together.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said with a loose smile, “To true love’s kiss, that broke the spell.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but still clinked to it.

Cas smirked into his beer.

“What?”

“In the Empty. The moment you touched my skin, the roaming Free Will particles that you carried sunk into me,” he said, “Any touch is all it would have taken, to wake me up.”

Dean blushed, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Sam choked on his beer.

“The-the Disney princess got to me!” he said defensively, as Sam _howled, “_ Shut up!”

Cas just chuckled, the smug bastard.

“I’ll do it again,” Dean threatened, “I don’t need a-a _reason_ to kiss you.”

“By all means, do it then,” Cas said.

“...What, you mean like right now?” asked Dean.

Cas raised a challenging eyebrow. “Yeah, unless you’re a _coward_.”

Dean was no coward, so he pulled Cas in by the tie, kissing him soundly, right in front of Sam and Eileen.

“Wow,” he heard Sam sigh.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, pulling away.

“I just...literally _never_ thought I would see this happen,” Sam said, “Never in my life, I swear.”

“They’ve been doing this for _twelve years_ , Eileen,” Sam said, turning to her and starting to sign, “Twelve years! Of... _this_ , but without an OUNCE of self-awareness!”

“Oh, that’s not that hard to believe,” she said, shaking her head.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen you around each other before,” Eileen shrugged, “It’s...it’s kind of a lot to witness.”

“Financial compensation, Dean,” Sam jabbed a finger at them, “ _Financial compensation._ ”

-

One beer turned into a few beers, that turned into a few _more_ beers.

Well. Mostly for Sam. He sucked them down like water, and so he got sloshed pretty quick.

“Cas,” Sam slurred, “Cas. Do you remember when Dean fuckin...came onto you, in Bobby’s panic room?”

“Yes of course,” Cas said, taking another sip of his beer, “I have an impeccable memory.”

He looked Dean in the eyes.

“Well, Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that? I got laid,” Cas recited, signing for Eileen’s benefit.

Sam burst out into drunken laughter, hanging onto Eileen’s shoulder for support.

“Y’all are gonna kill me,” Dean said, rubbing his blushing face, “Why am _I_ the only one getting roasted here?”

“Because Castiel is un-shameable,” Sam said, slapping the table with a hand, “Mr. _more-profound-bond_ over here is just up-front with his shit. Always has been.”

Sam immediately sobered, but only metaphorically.

“You know, Dean,” Sam said, ultra serious, “I did make out with a guy in college.”

“Really?” Dean said, waggling his eyebrows, “I think we need to hear about _that_.”

“It was at a party,” Sam said, “And you know what? I never mentioned it! Cause I thought you’d be _homophobic_ about it.”

“Probably woulda been,” Dean admitted, “I was a real bastard about that, back in the day.”

“A bi-sexual bastard,” Sam said, snickering at his own alliteration.

“Yeah, you got me. I’m bi,” Dean said, trailing off to look into his beer, “I’m bi.”

“Is that the first time you’ve ever said that?” asked Eileen.

“Yeah,” Dean said, nodding with his head and shoulders, “Feels...weird. But good.”

He looked to her with an unspoken question, and she touched her chest with the letter B and turned it into an I as she pulled it away.

Dean copied her to the best of his ability, then signed a thank you.

Sam sniffed, and wiped a tear from his eye.

“God, it just feels _so good_ ,” he said, sniffling again, “To have things finally out in the open.”

“Alright, Sammy, I’m cutting you off,” said Dean, but he couldn’t deny that his eyes were a bit misty as well.

-

When the conversation, and the beer, had run dry, they all turned in for the night.

“Whew,” Dean said, heaving a big sigh as he opened his room’s door, “What a day.”

“You’re telling _me,”_ sighed Cas.

“Do you, uhm,” Dean said, gesturing into his open room, “Want to stay with me?”

Cas blinked. “I-If you’ll have me.”

“Listen,” Dean said, “There are two things I know for certain. One-”

“Bert and Ernie are gay,” Cas supplied.

Dean stopped, and laid a hand on his shoulder, pointing at him with the other.

“You’re goddamn _right_ ,” he said, “And two-”

“If you are suggesting that you’re going to take my virginity, I must remind you that neither of us are virgins,” Cas interrupted, “That ship, as they say, has sailed.”

Dean made a face.

“Dude. Does it look like I _care_ about virginity?” Dean said, “What I was _gonna_ say was…”

He pulled Cas in until they were fully chest to chest, faces close, lips _almost_ touching.

“Right now, I wanna have sex with you so bad that it’s all I can _think_ about,” Dean whispered.

Cas’ eyes darkened, and Dean saw his grace surge as he pushed the door shut behind them without touching it.

It was the hottest shit he’d ever _seen_.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Cas grinned, and closed the gap to kiss him, _hungry_ this time, already pushing off his jacket as he walked Dean backwards toward the bed.

-

Some hours later, Dean jolted awake.

As he got his bearings, he realized two things. One, he was naked as the day he was born, and two, there were arms encircling him.

The events of the previous day flooded back into his mind.

And the previous _night_.

 _Hoo boy,_ he thought as he relaxed back into Cas’ arms, stomach doing all sorts of cartwheels, _all that really_ happened _._

“It is three in the morning,” came Cas’ voice in his ear, scaring the shit out of him, “You should try to go back to sleep.”

“You’re awake,” Dean said dumbly, spinning in his arms to face him.

“I don’t sleep, remember?” Cas reminded him, “But I am watching over you.”

That used to freak him out, but now, Dean could take comfort in that.

Well, he could for the next week, at least.

He sighed.

“What is it?”

“Just thinking,” said Dean, “Why...why a week?”

“Huh?”

“You told Jack to wait a week,” Dean said, “Before you’d meet him in Heaven to help fix all of Chuck’s crap. Why a week?”

“A week is the most sacred length of time,” Cas explained, “It is only...appropriate, that I treat our new relationship with the respect it deserves.”

Dean touched a hand to his heart.

“Aw, Cas...you’re a _romantic,_ ” said Dean in awe, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I suppose I am,” Cas said contemplatively, “I have never really had the opportunity to explore that, until now. With you.”

Cas reached up and smoothed Dean’s eyebrow, dragging his thumb down his skin to rest just under his cheekbone.

“You really _are_ a beautiful man,” Cas said quietly, as if it were a simple statement of fact, an idle contemplation, rather than a mind-shattering compliment that could make stars explode behind Dean’s eyes.

He couldn’t even bring himself to deflect with a joke. He just let the remark sink into his soul, mouth slack, lost in the eyes of the love of his life.

Cas smiled.

“It’s nice to see you like this,” he said.

“...Naked?” Dean asked.

“I was going to say...unguarded,” Cas said, eyes raking up and down his body, “But that works too, I suppose.”

Dean let out a breath.

Cas suddenly got a contemplative look on his face.

“Now what are _you_ thinking about?” asked Dean.

Cas said nothing, he just lifted his hand and knocked the blanket off of Dean’s upper body.

It was cold as hell, and Dean shivered, but he waited to see where Cas was going with this.

“I am thinking about...how there have been many touches that changed my life,” Cas said, examining Dean’s shoulder mark, “But this...this was the first.”

He stroked the faint white lines of his own handprint.

“And, I thought it was going to be my last,” Cas said, letting it fall away.

“Hey. I wasn’t gonna let that happen,” Dean said fiercely, “I couldn’t _stand_ it here without you.”

“I...I never said thank you, did I,” Cas said, “For saving me.”

He sighed, and hit Dean with the full force of what he now knew was a loving gaze.

“You _saved_ me, Dean,” Cas said, emotion rough in his voice, “Saved me in more ways than you will ever know. _Thank you_.”

-

Dean made his way into the kitchen as Sam came back from his morning run with Miracle.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam said, out of breath.

“Yo,” Dean responded, pouring his coffee.

“Would you mind explaining why there’s a billboard that just says FUCK YOU in our front yard?”

Dean turned on the spot.

“Are you questioning my taste in lawn décor, Samuel?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, unhooking Miracle from her leash and letting her run down to Dean, “It’s in _pieces._ ”

“It’s modern art,” insisted Dean, a smile growing on his face as he sat down with his cup, “It’s what the kids are calling ‘aesthetic’ nowadays.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“When you get your own lawn, that isn’t right outside a top secret bunker that we do _not_ want to draw attention to,” he said, walking down the stairs, “You can decorate it however the _hell_ you want.”

“Oh I will,” Dean said, smoothing Miracle’s fur absentmindedly, “I will.”

That sounded...really good, actually. Maybe he’d look into getting a little place in town with Cas, with a real lawn, and get out of the apocalypse spotlight for a little while.

The thought was a little terrifying. Hunters weren’t supposed to have a normal life, that’s one of the lessons he learned pretty early on. But over the past fifteen years, he’d seen other hunters work so hard to balance the life with, well, _creating_ a life, and he was beginning to think that maybe it _was_ possible for him too.

Maybe he _could_ loosen his grip on the hunting life, just a little, and work to create something new.

“Earth to Dean,” said Sam, startling him out of it, “I said, will you go tell your boyfriend to get rid of it? We don’t need a bunch of Instagram kids showing up at the bunker for a cool photo op.”

 _Boyfriend,_ thought Dean, with a little thrill of adrenaline.

“Go on, you sap,” Sam gently ribbed, “I _know_ he’s awake.”

“Taken care of,” said Cas, suddenly standing next to the oven with a rush of wings.

Sam and Dean both started.

“What?” he said, lifting his hands up and letting them flop down, “I heard my name.”

“You did _not_ ,” Sam retorted, “I just said ‘your boyfriend’.”

“I’ll answer to it,” Cas shrugged, “It _is_ an accurate description of me.”

“You’re _damn_ right it is,” Dean said, pointing finger guns at him.

“Saaam, your phone is ringing,” said Eileen, walking in and tossing it to him from across the room.

Sam fumbled the catch, hitting the screen too many times.

“Aw, man, you made me hang up!” he complained.

“Butterfingers,” Dean teased.

Eileen snickered.

God, it was all so... _normal_.

Well. It wasn’t, really. It was pretty aggressively anti-normal, compared to most people in the world. Dean was dating an angel, co-parent to a literal God, to say nothing of the batshit-crazy traumatic events that every single one of them had experienced over the past three, fifteen, twenty, _forty_ years. They had all faced death from both sides. They had all been to literal Hell and back. They all had the scars and the baggage from the hunting life that meant their lives would always be _weird_ , no matter what.

But normality didn’t have to be the absence of everything hunter-related. The part that Dean really wished for, when he thought of having a normal life, was more of a feeling. A feeling of love, and care, and _safety,_ and that’s what Dean was feeling this morning as he watched Sam scroll petulantly through his missed calls, and Eileen sign Miracle’s name sign at her until she wagged her tail. It was the knowledge that he was loved, that people had his back, and that he had a place that he could put down roots, if he wanted, in this new chapter of his life.

Dean took a look at Cas, speaking of new chapters, who was still standing next to the oven. His best friend, his confidant, his lover, the bridge to a relationship with their collective son who art in Heaven. His heart swelled, and he never felt more grateful to have what he had in his weird little life.

Cas finally caught his eye and raised his eyebrows at him, a silent _Hello Dean._

Dean grinned. Whatever happened in the future, they’d work it out.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might be wondering—Famously Slow Writer Sequesters, how the FUCK did you get this story out so fast? For one, it is a LOT shorter than my usual fare, and for two, I’ve been writing and planning this fic since like….three weeks ago, and only got the courage to post Supernatural on main last week. Sorry to my usual subscribers but this goddamn story held me hostage and lived rent free in my brain til I finished it and hit post.  
> Fun fact: the Sleeping Beauty bit was the very first part I ever thought up for this story, and the second part was the way that Dean interacts with the Empty. But if yall have read Trouble in Álfheima, you already know that I’m a huge sucker for humans having human-specific powers.  
> Anyway. you can consider this story done! I have a couple lingering threads and funny ideas in this world that I might add onto, but the main story is now finished. Everybody in this show, and in this fandom, deserved so much better than they got and I hope that this brings a bit more justice to the things this show set up.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact about me: I watched about eight seasons of supernatural during my superwholock phase in 2013/2014, but it wasn't really my main fandom out of the three (it was who, if you were wondering). Then, I gave this show not a passing thought until the infamous and hysterical night of November 5th 2020, when it became such a shitshow that I got invested in it again.  
> Then I had the classic "wouldn't it be funny" thought, and this fix-it started POURING out of me.  
> There's gonna be at least four chapters, so...enjoy. Special thanks to Virfu for being a long-suffering actual spn fan and explaining a lot of the lore to me, love you <3


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